


You'll Kill Me If You Stop

by nhasablog



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 06:59:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13266150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhasablog/pseuds/nhasablog
Summary: The moments that Elio will miss the most: being in bed with Oliver, exploring with Oliver, laughing with Oliver. Even if Oliver is the one to force the laughter out of him.





	You'll Kill Me If You Stop

**Author's Note:**

> I read Call Me By Your Name last year and fell in love, but it was only when I saw the movie adaptation that came out recently that I knew I had to write something. I’m so incredibly in love with this story it’s ridiculous. I hope you enjoy! If you haven't read/seen it maybe don’t read unless you want to be spoiled, though the spoilers aren’t big.

The rain was hitting the window of Elio’s -  _Oliver’s_ \- room. It was rare for it to rain this time of the year, especially in this part of Italy, but Elio didn’t mind it. It was a contrast to the otherwise quiet house. It made him feel safer to know that his and Oliver’s mingled breaths weren’t the only sounds.

Inside, it was hot. Elio was aware that their proximity had something to do with it, but he’d forgotten the very existence of covers at that point. The only thing he allowed himself to be covered with was Oliver’s legs, hands, mouth. He was certain he would freeze to death if the other man deprived him of that.

“You’re quiet,” Oliver said, his voice in harmony with the rain on the roof.

Elio craned his neck in an attempt to catch his eye. “I’m always quiet.”

“You’re not. You’re only quiet when you want to keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“Maybe I do.”

Oliver tapped his fingers over his chest, the way his arm was draped over Elio’s shoulder, supporting his head, making his fingertips just graze his upper ribs. “You know, I wish I lived inside that head of yours.”

“It’s not as exciting as you might think.”

“It’s fascinating. You know so much.”

Elio almost flushed at the memory of the confession that left his lips the last time Oliver had said something along those lines. “Stop it. You think too highly of me and you’ll get disappointed.”

Oliver moved so quickly that Elio barely had time to adjust his head that was suddenly resting against his pillow. Oliver didn’t sit on him properly, as if scared he’d crush him, but straddle his hips he did, and Elio was happy for the darkness of the room.

“Take that back,” he said, his hushed voice almost stern.

“What?”

“What you just said. Take it back.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to say those things about yourself. Or us.” Oliver leaned closer, his breath hitting Elio’s face when he next spoke. “You would never disappoint me.”

Elio felt as if he was in a daze when he replied. “Not even if I burnt down the house?”

Oliver barked out a laugh. “No. Not even then.”

“Then I take it back.”

“Good.” Oliver closed the gap and let their lips collide, briefly. “I would’ve been forced to use drastic measures if you didn’t.”

“What kind of drastic measures?” Elio asked, smiling in amusement now. “You think I’m scared of you?”

“No. But your belly is.”

The light flutter of fingers against his skin was so unexpected that Elio let out a small yell, which Oliver muffled with the palm of his hand. Wide eyes met smug ones.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you flinching when I touch certain parts of you.”

Elio pushed his hand away from his mouth, but kept it resting on his cheek. “I can’t help it.”

“Oh, I never blamed you. I just find it endearing.”

“You did not just use that word.”

“I did. Does it fluster you?”

“ _You_ fluster me.”

“I know. I like that I do.”

Rather than leaning in again, Oliver sat up, head tilted to the side as he examined him. His hand was still on Elio’s face.

The rain was still hitting the window.

Elio’s heart was still going insane.

“One day, when we don’t have to keep quiet, I’ll make you laugh as if your life depended on it.”

Those were his last words before he rolled off of him and settled down to sleep. Elio didn’t want to tell him, but he was looking forward to it more than he could explain.

* * *

 

Two days later it was as if the rain had never happened. It had left the already blossoming grounds absolutely stunning, and Elio and Oliver’s bike ride to yet another place Elio wanted to show him took longer than usual. As if they wanted to enjoy everything they would usually rush past.

“My dad took me here for the first time when I was 13,” Elio was saying as they dumped their bikes on the grass. “He tried to have The Talk with me-” Air quotes. “-but he only ended up talking about love, which I guess didn’t exactly educate me on- certain things.”

Oliver laughed. “That sounds like your dad.”

Elio grinned and stepped back to fully take in the sight. It was only a narrow stream in a small forest in the middle of nowhere, but he loved it anyway.

Oliver seemed to love it too. “Man, I could spend hours just sitting here and listening to the nature and nothing else.”

“We could do that.”

“Since you’ve suddenly gone mute I guess we could.”

Elio shoved his shoulder. “Thinking is good for the soul.”

“So is sharing.”

“There’s nothing to share. Just general thoughts and observations. It doesn’t have to be that deep.”

“Says you.  _Everything_ is deep.”

“You don’t have to label everything.”

Oliver took off his shirt, which shut Elio up instantly. “Let’s swim, and you can tell me more about the things that don’t need labels.”

The water was freezing, but after their bike ride under the ruthless sun Elio was happy for anything to cool his skin. The bottom was filled with rocks that could slice their feet up if they weren’t careful, and the stream tried desperately to bring them with it, so it was safe to say they didn’t stay in the water too long. Sitting on the edge with their feet dangling in, they listened to the soundtrack of nature.

Elio knocked his left foot into Oliver’s right. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful. Peaceful.” He traced his toes over Elio’s sole. “Can we stay all day?”

“We can stay forever.”

“That’s unrealistic.”

“What are we, realists?”

“We’d starve.”

“Take some risks, americano.”

Either Oliver was quicker than Elio had ever known, or he was just generally distracted nowadays, because this was the second time Oliver had pinned him down without him reacting. His feet were still in the water.

“I take risks,” Oliver said.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Coming here was a risk. To Italy, I mean. To live with a family I had never met.”

“You’ve seen the recommendations.”

“But you can never know.”

“Okay, so one risk.”

“You’re a risk.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“A risk I’m willing to take.”

“For the summer.”

“Please don’t do this.”

Elio shifted, unsure if he wanted to shove Oliver off or keep him there forever. “All right, so two risks.”

Oliver hummed. “I can take a risk right now.”

“What sort of risk?”

“You’ll see.”

 _You’ll feel_  was more like it, for Elio tried to curl in on himself the moment he felt Oliver’s wiggling fingers against his midriff, but the way Oliver had him pinned made it impossible. He was trapped.

And he was laughing.

“Now this is a risk because you might hate me afterwards,” Oliver was saying. “I know you won’t, but there’s a chance. See? Risk taker number one.”

There was something special about interrupting the silence of the nature with something as pure as laughter. Elio was aware of it, and he was torn between wanting to sew his mouth shut and rip the giggles out of his throat so that they never left the world.

Oliver’s hands were gentle against his skin, and that made it worse. It didn’t matter how much Elio tried to struggle, for Oliver evaded his hands every single time. Elio reckoned that was part of the fun. The chase, the desperation, the hint at helplessness.

God knew everything about them hinted at helplessness.

“Oliver, I’m dying!”

“Grow up.”

“Please!”

Oliver backed off, his laughter mixed with Elio’s residual giggling. “Do you hate me yet?”

“I could never hate you.”

Oliver poked his stomach. “Not even when I tickle you half to death?”

Elio batted his hand away. “Not even then.”

It was then that Elio saw this look find Oliver’s face that told him that Oliver was onto him, but neither of them said a word about it.

* * *

 

Being in Rome was liberating on many levels. Not only could Elio pretend, for just a moment, that everything was going to be okay, but they didn’t have to worry about someone walking in on them when they were in their room. They could, for the first time all summer, be entirely themselves.

It made Elio want to cry.

“Let’s stay forever,” he said as the morning sun graced the city with its presence. “Let’s never leave.”

Oliver didn’t reply, and the silence forced Elio to think of a departing train with Oliver on board. A thing that would become reality in just a few days.

Now he really wanted to cry.

“Hey.” Oliver reached out, cradled his head. “Please, no sadness. Not yet.”

“I can’t help it.”

“We’re here. We’re experiencing things together and _we’re here_. I’m here.”

“For now.”

“Elio.”

“Sorry.”

Oliver caressed his face, hair, neck, all the while Elio refused to properly look at him. He suddenly wished it was dark again. Everything felt easier in the dark.

“We’ll go out, eat some nice food, explore the streets, maybe have some gelato, and tonight we’ll find something to drink that will burn our throats and we’ll live.”

Elio reached out to run a finger over Oliver’s arm. “That sounds nice.”

“We can do whatever we want.”

“Mm.”

“Elio?”

“Hm?”

“Please don’t turn quiet on me. I don’t think I can bear it.”

Elio kissed his hand, his cheek, his mouth, and said, “I won’t.”

Oliver’s smile was sad. “I can tell when you’re lying.”

“I’ll try not to.”

Olivar brought Elio’s hand to his lips. “Promise me.”

_If you promise not to forget me. If you promise to never look back on this with regret. If you promise to return._

“I promise you.”

And then, ironically enough, they were quiet. Quiet while they kissed. Quiet while they touched. Quiet while they just lied there. Outside the city was loud, but Elio’s head was louder.

He needed to drown it out.

“I wonder.”

Oliver looked at him. “About what?”

“About you.”

“Me?”

“You.” Elio rolled over so that he was on his stomach, partly leaning on Oliver’s chest. “I feel like you know something about me that I don’t know about you, and that’s not being equals.”

“And what is this something?”

Elio curled his fingers against Oliver’s side in reply, but that bastard didn’t even flinch. “Are you serious?”

Oliver laughed as Elio tickled him wherever he could reach, but Elio could tell if wasn’t due to the sensation.

“That’s unfair.”

“Life’s not always fair.” Oliver sat up, which was foreboding. “It does remind me that no one can hear you beg here, though. And if they can, they won’t come.”

“You made it all sound so much worse than it is.”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you only ask me to stop when it becomes too much.” And with that he pinned Elio to the bed, sparing him no time to even blush.

“Stop being so observant!” Elio managed to cry out before being thrown into a giggle fit as Oliver’s fingers scribbled up his ribs. See, Elio had never really minded being tickled, and until a certain age his parents - especially his dad - had made it a weekly mission to make him laugh. But for the past few years he’d been deprived of the feeling of joy and vulnerability, and he hadn’t noticed just how much he’d missed it until Oliver.

There were a lot of things he hadn’t realized until Oliver.

“You’re so beautiful,” he heard Oliver say through his laughter, and had he been in control of his limbs he would’ve shoved him and probably kissed him, but all he could do now was laugh. He reckoned that was enough.

At one point Oliver decided that tickling merely one place wasn’t enough, so he used his face and mouth to tickle the crap out of Elio’s neck while his hands still went to town on Elio’s upper body, and Elio was glad they were here instead of at home. He wasn’t sure if he could’ve handled not being able to scream in this position.

Oliver was laughing when he backed off, amused at Elio’s desperation. “You’ll have people think I’m murdering you.”

Elio melted into the mattress. “You are.”

“Lies.” Oliver poked him in the ribs once. “But see? You never asked me to stop.”

Elio reached out to pull him closer, making him lose his balance and tumble down on top of him, which suited Elio just fine. He hid his face into Oliver’s shoulder. “Stop embarrassing me.”

Oliver’s chest rumbled as he laughed. “It’s cute.”

“Shut up.”

Hands found his hair, tangled in his locks. “We should start getting ready.”

“Five more minutes.”

Oliver kissed his temple. “Five more minutes.”

Elio would miss moments like these the most.

* * *

 

“Don’t stop.”

“What?”

“I said don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop what?”

“Everything.”

Oliver was silent for a moment, and Elio could only see the a washed out version of his face in the dark. “Elaborate.”

Elio reached for his hand. “Don’t stop touching me.” He guided the hand to his face, neck, chest. “Don’t stop feeling.” Down his ribcage and sides. “Don’t stop being a part of me, every time you as much as move a finger over my skin.” Hand on belly. “Just don’t stop. You’ll kill me if you stop.”

Oliver curled his fingers under Elio’s palm, the nails digging into his stomach briefly and making him laugh. “I won’t.”

But he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my [tumblr](http://nhasablog.tumblr.com).


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